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Aug. 23rd, 2010 03:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaIn order to support his life with Saki, Kida had willingly (willingly enough) accepted a job working for Izaya. It served his own means even if it was, as Saki had put it, ‘circuitous’. Izaya knew not to trust Kida but by the same turn he considered one of the few people he could trust because he knew not to trust Kida. Or what not to trust Kida with.
Kida had always been predictable to Izaya, a fact that grated on Kida’s nerves.
He set the knife away carefully, before he cut himself out of misplaced anger. He was done chopping the scallions and onions anyway. On the stove top the frying pan was ready, tofu already having been cooked. A pot sat in the stove, a strainer set inside of it filled with noodles.
It might have seemed overly domestic, as Kida picked up the cutting board and walked to the stove then dumped in the chopped vegetables. There was even clinking sounds from the other room where Saki was setting their dining table with plates and silverware.
Kida’s parents had never cared to make him dinner, Kida had learned on his own, and not to feed himself, it had always been with the intention that if Kida had a girlfriend he would be able to cook for her. That if he got married he would be able to provide home cooked meals for his wife.
That he would be able to feed his children.
“Masaomi.” Slender arms wrapped around Kida’s waist and he jumped, startled. Quickly Kida set the cutting board aside and checked to make sure the stove was not on. “You’re thinking too hard. Is the recipe difficult?”
Kida let a hand rest on top of Saki’s. “Can you blame me for getting distracted? I miss you ever second we’re separated! Even though you’re in the other room it feels like worlds.”
Soft laughter and warm air against his ear. “You can’t lie to me, Masaomi.”
Kida squeezed Saki’s hands, then gently pulled Saki’s arms away from him. He turned around, his back pressed against the handle to the oven door, the two of them trapped against one another in the small kitchen. “But I can keep lying to myself.”
Soft tipped, slender fingers, cupped his cheeks and warm brown eyes stared up into his. Kida could not fight the smile that tweaked the ends of his lips. “I can’t stop you from that. Shall I get the noodles?”
“No, no, no! For there is still more cooking to be done!” Kida turned Saki towards the door and pushed her gently, hands on her shoulders until he had pushed her over the threshold and then he pecked her on the cheek. “Stay out of my kitchen, you temptress!”
Kida had always been predictable to Izaya, a fact that grated on Kida’s nerves.
He set the knife away carefully, before he cut himself out of misplaced anger. He was done chopping the scallions and onions anyway. On the stove top the frying pan was ready, tofu already having been cooked. A pot sat in the stove, a strainer set inside of it filled with noodles.
It might have seemed overly domestic, as Kida picked up the cutting board and walked to the stove then dumped in the chopped vegetables. There was even clinking sounds from the other room where Saki was setting their dining table with plates and silverware.
Kida’s parents had never cared to make him dinner, Kida had learned on his own, and not to feed himself, it had always been with the intention that if Kida had a girlfriend he would be able to cook for her. That if he got married he would be able to provide home cooked meals for his wife.
That he would be able to feed his children.
“Masaomi.” Slender arms wrapped around Kida’s waist and he jumped, startled. Quickly Kida set the cutting board aside and checked to make sure the stove was not on. “You’re thinking too hard. Is the recipe difficult?”
Kida let a hand rest on top of Saki’s. “Can you blame me for getting distracted? I miss you ever second we’re separated! Even though you’re in the other room it feels like worlds.”
Soft laughter and warm air against his ear. “You can’t lie to me, Masaomi.”
Kida squeezed Saki’s hands, then gently pulled Saki’s arms away from him. He turned around, his back pressed against the handle to the oven door, the two of them trapped against one another in the small kitchen. “But I can keep lying to myself.”
Soft tipped, slender fingers, cupped his cheeks and warm brown eyes stared up into his. Kida could not fight the smile that tweaked the ends of his lips. “I can’t stop you from that. Shall I get the noodles?”
“No, no, no! For there is still more cooking to be done!” Kida turned Saki towards the door and pushed her gently, hands on her shoulders until he had pushed her over the threshold and then he pecked her on the cheek. “Stay out of my kitchen, you temptress!”
